Drifting Reflections
by mmlubr
Summary: Kirishima reflects on his relationship with Yokozawa from scratch.


Drifting Reflections (ONESHOT)

Author : masamune_luvr

Pairing : Yokozawa x Kirishima

Rating : T

DISCLAIMER : All characters belong to Nakamura Shungiku and Fujisaki Miyako.

Setting : Takes place after volume 1 of Yokozawa Takafumi no Baai

Summary : Kirishima reflects on his relationship with Yokozawa from scratch.

There was an incessant buzz – induced from one two many teas, beer, a headache, the blues and crappy music – inside Kirishima's head, causing his brain to momentarily congeal, much like a bowl of forgotten oatmeal. One more cold cup of tea was patiently waiting for him, along with more pressing tasks like the manuscript he was going over. It was the latest installment of Ijuuin-sensei's The Kan and once he had finished with proofreading, he would have to dig up the same said sensei from wherever he was to discuss any and all changes he had made to the draft. Although that was no mean feat compared to _obtaining_ the manuscript from sensei, since most times if not all he would get majorly depressed in the middle of creating the chapter and had to be forcibly dragged out of his morose snits. Still, these days the interval between the delays was lengthening steadily. And he was aware of the cause – Misaki-something-kun. Sensei had been devoting much of his time playing with the noob, who coincidentally (perhaps) was best-selling author Usami Akihiko's pet. He wasn't aware of the details, but was damn sure that guy had some ulterior motive. But all of that wasn't any of his concern. Sensei's enamorment with the kid caused him to spare way too less time on his manga, which gave Kirishima himself insufficient time with the blue-pencil, resultingly pushing them into a whole new vicious cycle of dementia.

Rolling his shoulders to relieve some of the tension built up there, he zeroed in on the rough draft lying before him. Tsking irritatedly, he tried to re-focus on his job. But was distracted with the surrounding sounds. Hiyo was at her math homework, audibly reciting thirteen times tables in the other room with some mopey song playing on the tube. The volume was too loud for either of them to concentrate, so he called out, "Hiyo, lower the sound a bit, will you?"

"'Kay dad!" Accordingly the bother was reasonably reduced. Even then his mind refused to listen and insisted on wandering off on transient thoughts. He felt slightly guilty since he had no business getting lost in cloudland as the cycle was looming close, bringing with it a crapload of work. Thinking of the cycle, he was reminded of disarming Yokozawa. That guy must be wading through a whole different type of pre-publishing hell. He laughed inwardly thinking of all the zombies slaving away in the shoujo manga section around that time. The mere thought of the oncoming nightmare was enough to raise his hackles.

It wasn't fair to offer mediocre work to his author's exacting hardwork which he was, in vain, trying to edit. Setting the sheaf of papers aside, he decided to sort out his thoughts before resuming his work. A slight breeze stirred the leaves and blossoms of the few potted plants near the windowsill, synchronously ruffling his hair. He stretched out his legs at the ankles and assumed a contemplatively laid-back position.

Closing his eyes, he recalled the first time he had seen Yokozawa, no more than a sales department honcho to him at the time. First impressions are lasting ones and so he had quite easily estimated what kind of guy he was. Which was the image of an overbearing, belligerent, blunt-spoken-to-the-point-of-ruthlessness, eternally scowling, leech of a man who sucked out the life energy of anyone he took his mind to making his mark. He was the main sales rep of the shoujo division and as Kirishima worked in the shounen/seinen division, they mostly didn't come into contact directly, save for, to put it mildly, _discussions_ on the number of copies to be published. The countless times he had noticed him hanging out with the then newbie chief editor of Emerald shoujo manga department – Takano Masamune – he had unfailingly noticed the air getting charged with electricity whenever the two were in close proximity. With their dominating personalities, anyone with a grain of a brain would realize there was something cooking, no scratch that, boiling between them. He had no way of knowing then that the thing was wholly one-sided.

Then a bunch of years later, not too long back he had run into him in one of the usual bars. And found him stinking drunk. The only reason he had approached him was out of a sense of courtesy to ask if he was alright, but the single gesture prompted to flick some inner switch governing all his overflowing emotions, making all his pent up grief gush out. In a somewhat slurred voice, he essayed his unrequited love for Takano (though he didn't mention his name, but Kirishima was smart enough to piece the puzzle together.) He started off telling him that he and Takano a.k.a chief editor went to the same university and consequently stayed in the same dorm. He had befriended the devilishly handsome chief editor and in the course of time the latter had confided in him about his difficult childhood, his parents' divorce and subsequent beginning of their new families, being crushed in mind and heart by being abandoned by his one true love and how he didn't feel like going on with life anymore. Very slowly at first and then scarily fast, he had been mad enough to lose his head and let chief editor encroach his heart. In his own words, the fool that he was, he had stupidly tried to read into every small remark and sentence he made to see if he too felt for him in the same way he did. But came up with nothing indicating it and eventually wizened up to learn that his feelings would never be returned. All the chief saw and would ever see him as was in the role of a friend. He was of the mind that the person who had broken his heart had corrupted his mind, fogging up his vision so that he couldn't see the very person willing to offer all he had.

Some time later, one night both of them had gotten drunk. Taking advantage of the drunken stupor chief editor was in, Yokozawa had fucked him and lived to regret it. The following morning, he had refused to meet his eye and whatever they passed for conversation was strictly on the superficial. Gathering his courage one day, he had confessed to the chief and as Kirishima had been told, in the messed up state he was in, he had agreed to go out with him none too cheerfully. Thus began their short, uneventful relationship. They had more sex and Yokozawa kept telling himself that it wasn't some horrendous mistake. But every time they fell into bed together, it loaded Takano with more guilt and made Yokozawa ashamed at the senselessness they seemed to be indulging in. Before long he had been told to put a stop to their relationship and go back to being only friends. Afraid that he would lose him if he declined, Yokozawa had unwillingly agreed. In the act of playing friends, before either was aware of it time zapped by, they had graduated and were looking for jobs. Fearing that the chief would cause more harm to himself, he had urged him to join Marukawa with him. As chief editor, Takano had taken the crumbling shoujo division to new heights, while Yokozawa contented himself with just being by his side.

The years flew by with their easy companionship until suddenly one day Takano's first love popped up from somewhere, claiming to be the shoujo department's new editor. At the thought that he would be snatched away from him once more, he was mad to the point that he thought himself capable of murder. He had left no opportunity to make the guy's life hell and tried his best to dissuade him from going close to Takano. But in the end, the chief editor had chosen his first love over Yokozawa and dumped him. He had told Kirishima that he was feeling the same helplessness and anger all over again with history repeating itself.

Sitting there drunk stupid, Kirishima had seen a mixture of such sorrow, confusion, anger and the unmistakable need to be loved and needed on the other man's face that some unnamable emotion had risen to the fore. It wasn't pity nor was it sympathy. If he thought back upon it now, it was the first time he had been attracted to Yokozawa. Without his realizing it, he had been his type all along – a temperamental, unpredictable, shrewish, hard-to-tame tsundere. Seeing the heated turn his conversation was now taking and with him roaring with repressed sentiments, Kirishima was apprehensive that Yokozawa would, in his wave of emotions start slobbering all over himself. Saving both of them from further embarrassment, Kirishima payed his bill for him and discreetly (as much discretion was possible in that scenario) dragged him off to a decent business hotel.

Booking a single room for both of them, he hauled the dead weight called Yokozawa there. He was lucky they got there on time since Yokozawa had begun to vomit. By the time they made it to the bathroom, he had puked all over his suit. Cringing at the sight before him, he had helped him in whatever way he could to empty out all the beers he had downed and had gritted his teeth and made up his mind that the barfing idiot owed him big. Thereafter he called room-service and gave away Yokozawa's sorry suit for dry cleaning and tucked him, naked as a jay, under the covers. Shedding his own suit to avoid cumbersome creases, he had switched off the light and hit the sack.

In the morning he was greeted with an intensely scowling Yokozawa, shooting daggers at him. Coming to his own not-so-very-pleasant-conclusions, he had asked Kirishima what the hell was going on in a dangerously quiet voice. Since he was used to thinking on his toes, he had played along and chalked up the whole one-night stand story just for the laugh of it. Witnessing Yokozawa make a supremely crestfallen and shocked face made the harmless fib well worth it. For the kick of it, he embellished saying he possessed scandalous photos of him too (which was dragging it a bit too far, but Yokozawa bought it, so what the heck?) Enjoying himself a bit too much, he had said he would wipe the slate clean only if he did whatever he asked for, simple things at that, like not giving him ulcers before publishing time, doing whatever he asked him to (which included hanging out with him after work-hours if he asked politely.) Granted it would make the coming days less backbreaking, but that wasn't the only selfish reason behind his going as far as blackmail. The sole reason being that he didn't want to let go of Yokozawa just yet. The night before he had seen a side to the sales dragon, a side he wouldn't have in his wildest dreams associated with Yokozawa : that of vulnerability, fear and neediness. Throwing him out of balance, it had changed all the preconceived notions he had had about the man. Except for Hiyo, for the life of him he had never felt the compelling need, which he felt whenever he laid his eyes on this exasperating man now, to take care and look out for someone.

Yokozawa being Yokozawa hadn't let up without a proper fight but he had wearily relented at last. And so their budding relationship had started off on a road with more downs than ups, with the bonds being formed regardless. Leaving no stone unturned, he had nicely set things up in such a way that Hiyo took an instant liking to him and was now comfortable and used to having him around. As was he himself. If that made him a manipulative bastard, then so be it. Without his knowing it, Yokozawa had been a blessing in disguise for him and his daughter. Ironically, he had turned out to become the personification of the mother figure that Hiyo needed sorely but which he had been unsuccessful in providing.

Steeped in his deliberations, he didn't notice when Hiyo emerged at his door. She gave him a sweet and innocent smile, the kind that only children can muster at will. Giving him a peck on his cheek, she informed him, "Dad, grandma's not been feeling well from the whole of last week, so I'm going to go and check up on her. I'll be back soon, okay?" Seeing his beloved little angel's face without fail made his insides swell with fatherly pride at odd times, like this. Chucking her under the chin, he touched his lips to her cheeks, consented and waived her off.

Returning to stare at the manuscript, he came to the conclusion that he wouldn't be finishing any work today. Letting out his choice of expletives since he couldn't rein his mind back to his job, he flounced onto the sofa and resumed his ponderings. Plus, because he had spilled the beans to Yokozawa about his whopper from that first night, he hadn't called or contacted him for the past two weeks (yeah, the pre-cycle period was hectic, but just one small text wouldn't kill him, would it?), which acted as fuel to the simmering fire of his temper. With a pin-prick of jealousy, he wondered if the man constantly in his thoughts was with Takano just then. Sometimes sans any vindication, what managed to rankle him was that the man couldn't help but harbor a reservoir full of intense feelings for Takano even after being dumped twice. It was probably because those feelings stemmed from a very long unrequited love. Moreover he was positive enough to believe that if Yokozawa couldn't categorize him as his past now, in time with his gentle intervention he would.

Right then, the front door creaked open, making him wonder if Hiyo had come back for something. But he was dead wrong. It was Yokozawa. Bathed in the skylight above the door, with a slightly red nose and ensconced in a warm, wooly parka. Seeing the man who had invaded his system like a virus, Kirishima's heart began to thump like mad and all the spit coming from his saliva glands dried up. Stumped at finding Kirishima at home when he must have assumed him to be passed out in some corner of the office, Yokozawa let out a small exclamation. "Kirishima-san? It's the middle of the cycle… Aren't you supposed to be manning the shounen side?"

Being eye to eye with his fixation after such a seemingly long time, something brightened up deep inside him, making him flash a cheery smile to Yokozawa. "Yes and no. ijuuin-sensei has caught a cold and since the major chunk of the work except for proofing is over, I've gotten the drafts home with me."

Before Yokozawa could come back with some snarky comment, Kirishima swiftly closed the distance between them and taking him into his arms with parka and bags and all, he kissed him deeply. The kiss gave words to all the untold feelings and emotions he had been felling for the span of those horrible two weeks without him. A bit surprised at first, Yokozawa quickly recovered and winding his hands around Kirishima's neck, contributed back to the kiss. Each kiss was an exploration anew, with their roving tongues and his own busy hands sliding all over the planes of Yokozawa's body in the way he liked, Kirishima thought to himself that in some odd way they balanced each other out. Immersed in the lip-lock, from some deep recess of his mind, Yokozawa's words that first loves never lasted were dredged up. Giving all he was and felt by means of the meeting of the tongues and mouths, he hoped he had given his needy lover a different insight into first loves.

-THE END-

Hope you liked it :D;;


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